


Weird Sisters

by Teratocracy



Series: The Impossible Child [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Adventure, Coming of Age, Folks I usually write like literary fiction, Gen, I just really really like Daleks, Original Character(s), Skaro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:49:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28859853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teratocracy/pseuds/Teratocracy
Summary: Far away on a savage planet, a child is raised among strange companions.
Series: The Impossible Child [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2116365





	1. Chapter 1

My comrades leave no footprints. Their feet do not quite touch the ground. And so, one day, I started to describe it to them: How the red and purple sand burns my feet through my armour if I stand still for too long. How the creeping scorchweed stings my limbs, and how cool and soft is the yellow moss that clings to the boulders at the river’s edge.  
  
I meant to be helpful but it irked them. It reminded them that I am different. Req finally ordered me to stop, and that was the final word. Except that Sen grinned at me and later confided that _she_ would like to hear what grass and gravel feel like. So from then on Sen and I would meet in a little hollow at the edge of the northern perimeter, among the patinated ruins of an ancient structure set into the hillside, a blasted out dome like half of a giant egg. There I tell Sen about the grass, and also about the wind and hail and how even in the winter the sunlight will blister my skin if I do not cover my face. I tell her about the softness of moss and of birds. 

When I was small, and first realized that I was strange, I used to ask _Am I one of you?  
  
_ Whomever I asked, the answer was _No.  
  
_ So I would snarl and pout, as snappish as Req, until Moss took me aside one evening and explained: _You have never been like us, one of the Afterfolk. And so you cannot be a Green Eye. That is what the others mean. But I think that what you mean when you ask “Am I one of you?” is “Am I your comrade and your friend?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _Yes,_ I said. I watched her long grey hair drift in the air even though there was no breeze. Her eyes, which are not green but gold, glittered warmly in the evening light.

Moss is enormous: nearly a head taller than Req and half again as tall as Sen. Even now, the top of my head barely reaches above her waist. At the time, she towered high above me. Yet she cast no shadow, despite the angle of the setting suns.  
  
 _You are,_ she told me. And although she did not hold me nor lay her hand upon my arm--none of my comrades have ever touched me--I could feel the weight of her sincerity in my mind. _I despise you as I do myself,_ she said, playfully, trying to cheer me up. These are the closest words that any of us have to express the depth of feeling between us.  
  
I said the same words to Sen once, as we sat together in the hollow. She grinned. I found myself reaching out toward her hand, just for an instant. A reflex. 

She jerked away before we could touch. Her smile faltered and I felt her confusion, and then a strange emotion so horrible that I was afraid to ask about it.  
  


***


	2. Chapter 2

As the second sun sets, the moon rises. A crescent that hangs huge and red over the northern mountains, resting on the head of the tallest peak. For a moment the mountain becomes a slumbering god, the spirit of war that was worshipped by folk in ages long, long past.  
  
War, as Req explained it to me when I was small, is when many, many people kill each other. It is a very common thing all over the universe. But the people who dwelt on this planet long ago were obsessed with war. Over thousands and thousands of years they perfected it. They finally conjured up a war so long and so terrible that, in the end, the very _idea_ of warfare became flesh. And that flesh was my comrades' people. The only survivors. The people who came After.

Between our secret outpost and the mountains lies a wild painted desert and sulphurous scrublands. On the other side of the mountains are treacherous steppes, and beyond the steppes are vast forests, and beyond the forests lies a sea, and beyond the sea there is more desert, and somewhere in that desert, on the other side of the world, is a city. A city, as Moss explained it to me once, is a place where many, many people live all together. In the city on the other side of the planet there are millions of my comrades' people. And there are billions more across space and time, throughout this galaxy and even others.   
  
There are just thirteen of us here in the southern wilderness: twelve Green Eyes, defectors from the Empire, and me. 

Tonight I am abroad in the desert by myself, making my way down to the river in the red light of the moon. Most of the others are resting and my mind is still. My thoughts are only my own.   
  
The air is warm enough that I can bare my face to the breeze. A thick, sweet scent drifts down from the hills, strong enough to drown out the sulphur in the rocks. The scrub and succulents are blooming, lush from the wild summer storms. This is the first clear night in the past five days, and there is something that I want to see.

The river here is wide and slow, flowing lazily through a series of pools. Moss-covered boulders huddle around the banks. Within the pools, a luminescent fungus clings to the stones and silt. Its blue-green glow illuminates the clear water. 

In the years since I was first able to explore on my own, I have seen and cataloged hundreds of organisms. But twice, now, in the shadow of the boulders, I have glimpsed something new. Before I ask someone else about it, I want to get a clearer look for myself. So I creep down the bank, settle down into the moss right at the water's edge, and wait.  
  
I wait, and wait, and wait. And as the river flows by, and time oozes and swirls along around me, my attention drifts upward. The sky is crowded from end to end with stars. The great tendrils of the galaxy sweep across from east to west. Out there amid those stars are countless planetary systems, and countless worlds with countless peoples. I hope that the Empire doesn't raze those worlds and scour the every galaxy bare before I get the chance to meet some of them.

My eyelids grow heavy and I begin to shiver, and still no other creature has stirred among the rocks. My limbs ache for the snugness of my berth. Gulping in one last long breath full of flowers and water, I rise to make my way back up to base. Perhaps I can try again tomorrow, if the night is clear again.

***


	3. Chapter 3

There is a monster in the sky. Far up into space, hanging at the very center of the galaxy. Two blazing eyes without a face. Its limbs curl out directly from a vast misshapen head, swooping across the void to clutch at every star. I can see a red planet grasped in one of its tendrils: my comrades' world, my home. I cry out.  
The thing's enormous eyes, boiling like yellow suns, roll toward me.  
It can see me.  
It recognizes me.

 _Stranger!_ comes a sharp voice inside my head, banishing the dream. _Awake! Cease hibernation._

Stranger is the name that they gave me when they found me squalling in the dirt and Moss decided that I was not to be destroyed. 

Req has come to rouse me.

I grit my teeth. It is much earlier than I would normally rise, and in my head, in the mindspace between us, I do not bother to hide my annoyance. Req will not care anyway. 

_Why?_ I growl.

_You will report to Akklo and me in 1500 rels. Equip yourself for travel._

Akklo oversees the laboratory and all of its projects: the sensor array, the network of transporter beams, the racks of great fungal mats that we grow for our food. I have never seen my comrades eat, but each day I consume portioned blocks of dense nutritious gel. Just now I am very hungry, and this only makes me more annoyed.

 _What about Moss?_ I ask.

_We are under Moss's orders._   
  


_***_

When I do meet Req and Akklo in the lab, 1504 rels have passed since Req woke me up. But Req does not scold me. I am to be issued a new piece of equipment. It is a tool of some sort, with a wide handle at one end and a long metallic emitter at the other. A laser chisel, maybe, or a portable transporter beam. 

Before I can ask, Req tells me what it is: _A gun._

_What is it used for?_

_To kill._

Then Akklo explains, in her flat, rapid voice, that I must first grasp the gun with uncovered skin, and then with full armour, to calibrate the sensors. Henceforth the gun will only fire for me. She has designed the stock to be comfortable in my limbs but I am not yet fully grown, so it will later need to be modified. There had been some debate about how to design the mechanisms that aim and fire the gun: whether or not these should be part of a system linked directly to my brain. Ultimately, they had decided on a manual sight and trigger. I must never point the gun at anyone or anything unless I intend to fire it. When I speak to someone, I might turn my head toward her but I should keep my weapons platform turned away. For now, I must not even think about pointing or aiming my weapon. Until I have been properly trained, I must _never ever_ touch the trigger.  
  
 _Unless you are ordered to, or your life is in danger,_ Req adds.

I do not understand everything that Akklo has said. I have never seen a weapon before now. I have never killed anything. My body trembles as I hold the gun, and I find that it is much lighter than it looks.

_I do not know how to use it._

_I will teach you,_ says Req. 

_What about Moss?_

_We are under Moss's orders._

_When will we start?_

_Now._

***


	4. Chapter 4

When my comrades first found me--hurt, hungry, and helpless--it was Req who was most eager to kill me.

Of course, she obeyed Moss's strange order to spare me. And, in her way, she has come to accept me: she is as curt and impatient with me as she is to everyone else. All of us are a little bit afraid of her. 

I am still trembling as Req and I emerge from the transporter terminal at the edge of the Wickwood. Turning to look behind us, I can see the northern faces of our mountains for the first time. 

_Stranger! Attend._

Ahead of us, the great black trunks thrust up and up against the sky. The tips of the very tallest trees are hidden in the clouds. 

I remember the gun, clutched tight against my body.

 _You are going to teach me here?_ I have never ventured out or worked alone with Req before. A hundred other questions crowd against the back my mind, but I hold them back.

_We will begin here. In the wood._

_How?_

_The only way to learn is by doing. Listen._

The wind whistles and sighs between the trees. It rattles the sharp crimson needles on the boughs. And out there amid the shuddering branches and the clamoring red sea of quills, I can hear a tumult of calls and cries and chirps. The forest is teeming with life. 

***

Beneath the trees, a thick bed of decaying needles swallows my footfalls. Around us, the shadows fall black and heavy and immense. Darkness condenses in the air like a fog. Ahead of me, hovering above the litter and tree roots, Req seems to wear the darkness about her like a mantle. It drifts out around her like the folds of my own cloak, the outermost layer of my armour that just now is weighing heavily on my shoulders. 

My foot catches on one of the gnarled roots. I stumble, I nearly fall. Req turns to look back at me. Her eyes glow faintly, not green but red.

_Stranger! Do not fall behind._

Easy for her to say! She does not have to navigate the uneven ground. But I keep these thoughts to myself and try to quicken my pace.

The bracken grows denser. I find myself wading among greenish black ferns, some of them nearly as tall as I am. We emerge onto the bank of a stream. Req pauses, settling amid the tips of the reeds. I sit down on one of the flat black rocks at the water's edge. 

Bioluminescent creatures wriggle in the clear stream, hunting for little round shapes that dart cannily amid the pebbles. Looking around us, I see that the tree trunks are mottled with orange lichen. Twitchy crawling things clamber to and fro across the bark. Iridescent birds bob and warble in the branches. I have not seen most of these organisms before.

 _Now, Stranger..._ Req's voice is soft. She seems eager. I sense a thrill in her and it catches me up too: I suddenly want to cry out or leap or bite. _We will begin._

I clutch the gun tighter to myself. _How?_

_The only way to learn is by doing._

_So what must I do?_

_You must trust me. Open your mind, and give me control of your limbs and your weapon._

This frightens me. Control of my limbs? Is this still part of Moss's orders?

_Obey._

Req's mind is pressing in close against mine. Her eagerness sharpens into bloodlust. 

_Obey!_

I obey. I relax the edges of my mind, as best I can. Req oozes in beside me. She sends tendrils of herself into my body, searching barbs that burrow tight into my nerves. She straightens my spine. She draws a deep breath into my lungs.

 _Attend, Stranger. Observe closely._ Req's deep, soft voice is so close inside my head that I can feel it rumble in my throat. 

Req arranges my body into a crouch, lower limbs bent, with my torso braced against the rock. She braces the end of the weapon against my body. She bids me again to pay close attention to my posture and position, to the precise configuration of my grip. Looking out from my eyes, Req raises the emitter end and peers through the sight. Taking aim at a patch of orange lichen, she waits for one of the crawling creatures to skitter across it. When the chance comes, she squeezes the trigger.   
  
A flash. The familiar sound--the sharp metallic trill--of an energy emission. And the creeping thing falls dead. 

Req and I do this again to a few more crawling beasts. Then a few of the birds. Each bird plummets from its branch in a glittering spray of feathers. Instead of committing the creatures to memory, cataloging them to compare each specimen later and to ask Akklo or Moss about them, under Req's guidance I obliterate each one. 

My body is trembling now. Req's excitement has electrified my nerves and quickened my pulse. Almost reluctantly, she starts to pull away from my muscles and my mind. She recedes enough to give me back control of my own limbs, but lingers closely enough to share my eyes and to breathe in the scent of mud and of moss. 

I take a few shots on my own. I miss a bird and then one of the climbing creatures. The bolt leaves a blackened spot on the trunk. 

_No._ Req assuages my anxiety before I can give voice to it. _It will not kill the tree._

***

After my aim has improved to Req's satisfaction, she drifts over to collect the corpses of the fallen animals. She draws each one up on invisible threads and swallows it whole.

_What will we do with them?_

_You will consume them. After they have been processed._ Req turns some interesting or troubling idea over and over in the shrouded clutches of her mind. _You know, you can consume these just as they are, if you have to. If you are ever lost and have no sustenance. You can eat them._

I recoil at this notion. Consuming solid bone and sinew? I laugh. _I would have to have teeth like yours!_

Req radiates confusion and consternation. 

All the long morning, I have been holding back a barrage of questions, coiled up like springs in the back of my mind. Req is never easy to talk to, but it might help if I change the subject. I am not sure what I have done wrong, and I do not want to spoil the coolness and the stillness with a quarrel. I lay out along the big flat rock beside the brook.

_Req?_

_Stranger._

_Why are some of our names words, but others are not?_ A few of us have names that also mean something. The others have names that are half-words or nonsense syllables. Req's own name is just a syllable, a phonetic unit that appears in many words--mostly ominous words, for things related to danger, betrayal, and legendary monsters.

_Why do you ask?_

_Because I want to know._

_All names are words._

_But some names also mean something else. Like my name._

Req growls to herself but she takes time to consider the question. _Every Green Eye has a name._ She speaks slowly, as if she is still formulating her answer even as she offers it. _She either names herself or her comrades give her one. But we are not used to having names. And there is no...procedure for generating and distributing them. So there are aberrations in the process._ As if trying to convince both of us, she adds, emphatically, _That is a_ good _thing._

I know why some of us have our word-names. I am called Stranger because I am an alien. Shriek is called Shriek because she is often struck by fits of wailing. _Why is Pilot called Pilot?_

_Because she is a pilot._

_She flew a ship?_

_Yes._

Pilot never leaves the interior of the base, much less flies anything anywhere. _What does she do now?_

_She monitors our sensors and perimeter security. And she hopes to fly again._

_She flew for the Empire?_

_Yes._

_What did you do for the Empire?_

I should not have asked this question. Req's mind darkens like a storm.

I will stick with questions about names. _Why is Moss called Moss?_

_I suppose it is because the moss by the river is the only other yellow thing._

Moss’s skin is a deep teal. _Other than her eyes?_

Req almost snarls. _Her what?_

 _Her eyes._ Again I am not sure what I have done wrong. _Moss's eyes are sort of yellow._

Req swallows another growl. _Moss's eyes,_ she mutters. _My teeth._ She looks squarely at me, and then all around at the forest and the stream and the sky, behind us toward the mountains, and back at me again. _Stranger, now I will ask you a question._

Only Sen ever asks _me_ questions. 

_What do you see when you look at me?_

I do not understand that question.

_What do I look like to you?_

I still don't know what to say. _Don't you know what you look like?_

 _I do. But I asked you to tell me what I look like_ to you _._

_Couldn't you just use my eyes to look at yourself?_

_No. Using your eyes does not mean that I see exactly as you see._

_Can't you see your reflection in the water?_ The stream is moving slowly, like the stretch of river that crosses our valley. The surface of the water is smooth.

Req goes over to the water's edge. _Stranger, look. Do I have a reflection?_

She does not. She looms there glowering on the bank, but there is nothing at all reflected in the water. Just the sky, the reeds, the trees, and me. 

So I obey. I tell Req what I see, and she listens intently. 

***


End file.
